When I Was An Irish Writer

My Ireland evenings.  They are superb.  Everyone else is sleeping.  I am not.  I am writing.  And then I am reading.  Both make me happy.  The quiet is light and burden free.  The air through the tilted open skylight is so fresh and cool.  Fresh from the ocean around this little world.   In my mind, out there in the darkness lives from the past are still being lived.  Their pasts not resolved.  Their futures depending on the present.  On us.  To resolve the conflicts that keep them here.  The nights I am alone I am not.  I enjoy the nights with the unseen life of Ireland’s history.

I have spent a good bit of my nights writing.  I have written in the car so as not to lose a thought or special moment.  It has been a highlight of my trip.  It makes me more aware of every moment.  The feelings.  The adventure.  The fun.

I can say I have been where the Irish writers have been.  I may not have the quality.  But by now I have the quantity.   We will be going to Inis Mein in a few days and I hope to find Synge’s chair, and sit in it.  I have been to Joyce’s tower.  I have sat upon a bench with Oscar Wilde.  I have likely been in places that have housed many a grand Irish thought and written word, but I have not known it.   Great and lovely thoughts permeate this nation.  The passion and love for their country, their culture, is inspiring on it’s own.  Whether it is written or not.   But it is  even more so as I allow myself, rightly   or not, to be Irish.

In a matter of days we will be on Inish Mo`r and I hope to sit atop the rock formed island where my forefathers lived and breathed.  I would hope to be inspired and write something brilliant.  But I will be content to sit there to write my blog.  And to later remember how I feel to be there. I want to write something that upon my return home I can read it and be transported to that spot, that moment, that feeling.  I can tell you now that I have stood upon Inis Mor before.  I stood in a place that allowed me to see the ocean in nearly every direction.   The air cleaner than any I have ever inhaled.  Closer to the heavens than even when I stood atop Croagh Patrick.  I still remember that moment and feel it upon the memory.

I wish I could impart that feeling to everyone who ever wishes to stand on Irish soil.

My Ireland evenings.

From my last trip to Ireland:  2010